Undead
by Jadesfire
Summary: There's a new type of monster in Sunnydale. Fortunately, help is at hand. [crossover with Torchwood, but no knowledge needed]
1. Blood Eaters

_A/N: This is set mid-Season 5 of Buffy. No knowledge of Torchwood is necessary. (If you know Torchwood, it's set pre-Season 1)_

* * *

**Undead I: Blood-Eaters**

Jack liked California, mostly for the weather. It wasn't that he disliked the rain and cold of Cardiff; you got used to it after a while. It was more what the weather did for fashion. The Californian girls didn't go much for macs and scarves, and he definitely approved of the hemlines. Almost made him feel at home. The weather also meant that lurking in the bushes was a lot more pleasant, even at this time of night. He'd barely moved for five minutes, watching the girl in the clearing do her thing.

There had been five creatures attacking her at first. Now there were three and, as Jack watched, she turned and almost absently kicked the next one in the knee. Jack thought he heard bone crack. She'd used a stake to dispatch the first creature, while the man with her had neatly beheaded another. He now threw her the sword, which she caught without looking, bringing it round and slicing at the thing coming from her right. Not waiting to see if she'd hit home, she continued the swing, turning and cutting across the one coming from the other direction. It fell back, pawing at its chest, which only left one uninjured.

Its attention was on her, and so it didn't notice the second man ramming a stake into its back. Jack resisted the urge to applaud and regretted not having his video camera to hand. They'd worked perfectly as a team, acting and reacting almost without thought. That kind of synchronicity only came from long practice and close familiarity and Jack was seriously impressed, especially with the girl. This was one he was going to have to watch.

She knelt, wiping the sword blade on the grass.

"Disappointing," she said, her words carrying clearly in the still night air. "No amusing banter or pithy comebacks. These vampires just aren't living up to their reputation."

"But on the plus side, no getting covered in vamp dust." The second man shrugged. He was younger than the first, and neither he nor the girl looked to be much more than kids. "That stuff always gets into your shoes."

The older man was examining the body of the vampire beside him.

"Curious. They're not exactly normal vampires."

The girl raised her eyebrows. "There are normal vampires?"

"Sure," the boy said. "The kind that just want a little house in the suburbs, a nine to five job and a Volvo."

Ignoring him, the girl crouched on the other side of the body. "Any idea why it didn't go 'poof'?"

"None whatsoever." The man pulled the stake out of the vampire with an unpleasant squelching sound. "Maybe they're a new breed of vampire."

Jack had seen enough. "Or maybe they're not vampires at all," he said, stepping out from the cover of the bushes, enjoying the surprised look he got. The girl whirled round, standing up and peering at him through the darkness.

"You an expert?" the boy asked, giving the girl a puzzled glance and confirming Jack's assessment. She was the one in charge.

"Not on vampires," Jack said, shrugging. "But on these things, yeah, I'm an expert."

"Then what are they, if they're not vampires?" the older man asked, coming to stand with the others. A united front seemed to be the order of the day.

"They're haemovores." Jack told him, adding the translation. "Blood-eaters."

"Er," the boy said, "not to be picky about it, but doesn't that kind of describe vampires?"

"It describes them," Jack said, coming towards them, "but doesn't mean these are the same things. Vampires are ancient, relics from a past age that just don't seem to want to go away."

"And haemovores?" the girl asked and Jack grinned. The pronunciation was going to take some work.

"They're from the future."

* * *

The headquarters for this crew was a magic shop on one of the main streets through town. Jack held back on any cracks about the setting, remembering that Ianto had spent twenty minutes one afternoon trying to get rid of a party of Japanese tourists who wanted to hire a boat. He was the last one to mock secret hideouts.

He felt the power as soon as he walked in the shop. It wasn't telepathy or anything as advanced as that, just an instinct that came in handy every now and then. Looking round, it was easy to see the source. Trinkets and orbs and strange boxes covered the shelves and tables. He ran his hand over a pack of tarot cards, peered into a cabinet at an unusual set of stones and finally turned his attention to the gathering in front of him.

Waiting for them at the shop were three more women, two blondes and red-head. Jack's day just kept getting better. Without waiting to be introduced, he held out a hand to the red-head.

"Captain Jack Harkness. Good to meet you."

"Willow Rosenberg. This is Tara Maclay."

It's always what they don't say, Jack thought, shaking the hand of the blonde girl now sitting rather closer to Willow.

"Hi, I'm Anya." Perky, keen, trying maybe just a little too hard. Jack smiled at her, sensing rather than seeing the kid – Xander, wasn't it? – stiffen a little. Something else for the mental notes.

"When you're done with the flirting," the girl, Buffy, said, throwing her jacket over the back of a chair, "could you get on with the explaining?"

"No reason not to do both." Jack gave Anya a wink, then slipped out of his coat, dropping it on top of Buffy's. "What do you want to know?"

"Can we start with who you are?" the older man, Giles, leaned against the counter, inspecting him. "And how you know so much about these things."

"I know about them because it's my job. The people I work with tracked the haemovores to California about three weeks ago and I've been driving up and down the coast trying to find them. Should have known they'd come here."

"Why?" Giles asked and Jack didn't miss the warning that Buffy shot him, but she had to know that it was too late to play ignorant.

"Oh come on." He lifted his arms, the gesture taking in the whole shop. "You guys spend your nights hunting vampires, you're clearly very good at it, you talk about demons and monsters knowing they're real, and you're living about two miles from a dimensional rift so big my granny could sense it. Not to mention the amount of raw power right here in this shop and I'm not just talking about the baubles for sale." He carefully didn't glance at the two women sitting at the table, keeping his eyes on Buffy.

"We call it the Hellmouth." Buffy said, meeting his eye for the first time and Jack wondered if the outburst had been a tactical error. The serious, intense expression on her face made him stop for a moment. "And if you know about power, then you know enough to stop screwing around and tell us what's going on."

Relaxing, in the hope that she would, Jack half-smiled, turning so that he could talk to everyone at once.

"Right, haemovores 101. They're a kind of mutant human, altered and warped by chemicals and psychic conditioning and who knows what else. They were transported from thousands of years in the future, back into the 9th century where the convenient vampire legend meant they stayed off the radar until about sixty years ago in England. It was thought they were all destroyed back then until they attacked a fishing village in Portugal six years ago and another in Argentina a few months after that. They can live underwater for an indefinite period of time, and mostly come inland to feed."

"What kills them?" Buffy asked.

"The important stuff, eh? Mostly the same things as vampires. Stakes, beheading, fire, but they've no fear of symbols. Crucifixes, bibles, things like that, don't bother them. They do have low-level psychic abilities, and can be held back or even driven off by faith."

Giles looked up, interested. "Faith?"

"If you believe strongly enough, it forms a kind of psychic barrier around you. The haemovores hate it."

"That's distinctive," Giles said, thoughtfully. "Might help us find references to them, especially if they've been around so long."

"References?" Following Giles' nod, Jack turned to see all the bookcases lining the back of the shop. "Oh. References. If you don't mind my getting all twenty-first century on you, and you've got an internet connection, I can have my people upload everything we've got on these things."

"My laptop's in my bag," Willow said.

"Let me have your IP address and our data is your data." Jack wrote it down as she read it out, then turned to Buffy. "Do you have somewhere I could make a call?"

* * *

The 'somewhere' turned out to be a large room at the back of the shop, half-storeroom, half-gym, albeit with rather pointier equipment than average. Jack examined some of the knife cabinets as he waited for Tosh to get back to him.

"I'm sending you all we've got," she said. "There's quite a bit on all of them."

"Thanks." Jack's PDA beeped and he scrolled through the first few pages of information. "Says that this Willow kid is a bit of a computer ace. If she traces us through the data you send her, I'm suspending your mainframe privileges for a month."

"She won't trace us," Tosh assured him. "Do you need anything else?"

"How are Owen and Suzie getting on?"

"There's nothing to see at Maiden's Point. They're talking to some of the locals, but they're fairly sure it's secure now."

"Well, have them check-in before they head back to the Hub. We need to be more than fairly sure."

"Got it. Good luck."

Jack hung up the phone, still staring at the case on the wall. Some of the knives looked vaguely familiar.

"Get everything you need?"

Startled, Jack turned to see Buffy watching him from a few paces away. He hadn't heard her come in.

"I think so. The files should come through soon." He waved a hand at the room. "This is pretty impressive stuff. Knives, daggers, axes, scythes; if it's sharp, you've got it."

"We like to think so." Buffy's tone was light but Jack had the distinct impression that he was being sized up, and not in a good way. He'd unbalanced her, invaded her home turf and she was not happy about it. Time for some more unbalancing, then. Turning his back on her, he stepped closer to the knife case.

"This is a Tibetan Spirit Dagger, isn't it?" he asked, pointing. Because of his height and the angle, she had to come towards him to see what he was pointing at. "The figure on the handle is supposed to frighten the demons. Although I think the six inch blade does that rather well, don't you?" He smiled at her, and had the satisfaction of seeing her blush as she realised how close they were now standing.

"Giles is the expert," she said, looking at the case. "I just use them."

"Shame. Some of them have got a fascinating history."

"What about you?" she asked. "What's your fascinating history?"

Jack raised his eyebrows. The tone had been more flirtatious than he'd expected. Interesting.

"Nothing thrilling I'm afraid," he said nonchalantly. "I'm just here to do a job."

"Right."

He laughed. "So suspicious. If I was going to do anything, don't you think I would have done it by now?"

"Do anything like what?"

"I'm sure you all have your theories." He turned so that there were barely six inches between them, and she had to tilt her head or take a step back to look at him. As she raised her face towards his, he let a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his face. "What's yours?"

"What?"

"Your theory?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." She did take a step back now, more than a little flustered. "Although I've got to admit that you do the dark, mysterious stranger thing real well."

"I try." Sticking his hands in his pockets, he looked upwards as though thinking. "Your friend Giles is wondering how I know so much about haemovores; Xander's worrying about his girlfriend, who probably thinks I'm cute, but have nothing to offer her; Willow and Tara, well, if I had to guess I'd say that they're wondering the same thing about me as I'm wondering about them – if they ask, the answer's yes, by the way; then there's you." He looked back towards her, watching her eyes widen a little. Suppressing a smile, he leaned closer. "Well, let's just keep that between us, shall we? And I won't ask why a college undergrad and a former librarian have enough weapons to equip half the town."

"Then I won't have to lie to you." She'd folded her arms, glaring at him as though challenging him to ask more. Jack knew when not to push his luck.

"That's always preferable." He crossed the room and opened the door for her. "Shall we see how the others are getting on?"

* * *

Most of the hunting was done through the usual dusty tomes. Buffy spent half her time leafing through books of monsters and the other half watching Jack move between her friends. There was some predatory and calculated about him, in the way he looked at people and the way he moved, as though he was always assessing them, just in case. He didn't frighten her exactly, but there was something about his absolute confidence and easy manner that made her uncomfortable in ways she didn't like to think about.

"If you're attempting to read through your fingertips, I'm afraid you're doomed to failure." The voice in her ear made her jump and nearly drop the book she was half-holding. She was sitting on the steps up to the balcony and as she looked through the banisters, she saw Giles regarding her with a gentle smile.

"It's just..." she paused, trying to put words round the thought. "Jack makes me nervous." When Giles pursed his lips, she went on, "Don't you think it's weird? I mean, everyone's just cool with him, just like that. He's flirting with Willow and Tara, laughed at Xander's jokes."

"Which makes him instantly suspect," Giles interrupted dryly.

"You know what I mean." Buffy closed the book, leaning on it as she watched Jack talk to Anya and Xander over the counter. She noticed that he was careful to look mostly at Xander, while his body was turned towards Anya, including them both equally. Her life usually depended on reading body language, making her hypersensitive to it. Jack's obviousness was making her uncomfortable.

"I have the impression that it's nothing personal, more that we happen to fit into his main categories of interest," Giles said. When she gave him a curious look, he half-smiled. "Upright and breathing."

"Please don't tell me that he…that you…" Buffy's mouth opened and shut, trying not to visualise the scene. Giles managed to look offended and amused at the same time.

"You may not have noticed, but I fulfil both of the criteria. He's really quite polite about it, though."

"Okay. Okay." Stamping hard on the mental image, Buffy scrabbled for what was left of her composure. "It's fine. World still turning? Good. Right."

"You're the only one who's actually been alone with him," Giles pointed out, not helping at all with Buffy's temporary confusion. "Do you think he's working to another agenda? One besides…" he trailed off, waving a hand in the general direction of the group.

"Hitting on everyone in the room?" Buffy frowned, trying to remember exactly what had been said in that unsettling conversation in the training room. "He uses it, the whole 'flirt with everything that moves' stuff?" she said with growing certainty. "I think it all comes naturally, but he's using it to play us, keep us distracted."

"What's he hiding?" Giles asked. "What's he trying to distract us from?"

"I don't know," Buffy said thoughtfully, "but we're going to have to keep playing along until we find out."

It was nearly an hour before they'd got anything useful. Giles had found the odd reference to a strange breed of vampire in central Europe and parts of England, while Willow had been scrolling through the pages of information Jack had got for her. They'd been talking quietly for a while, until Willow nodded and looked round at everyone else.

"Guys? I think we've got something." She gestured at the screen and Buffy came to see. "It says here," Willow went on, "that the toxin, mutation, whatever you want to call it, is carried in the blood. That's why haemovores need more of it. The toxin converts the blood into more toxin, so their bodies feed off themselves somehow, and the fresh blood is what keeps them going, providing new supplies, like fuel to a fire."

"So far, so gross," Buffy observed, trying to read the tiny writing. "Where does it get us?"

"Jack's people have already managed to identify the toxin, but if we could get a sample of their blood, we might be able find a way to destroy it with magic. Kind of isolate the bad stuff and wipe it out."

"That's pretty powerful magic, Will," Xander observed.

"And a pretty ambitious plan," Buffy added. "You want me to go get a blood sample from a haemovore? Do you want me to stop by the zoo on the way back and stick my head in a lion's mouth?"

"Actually," Jack said, "it could be done." He'd moved out of the way when the others came to look at the computer and was now leaning against one of the display cases, watching everyone else. "Remember I said they're vulnerable to psychic attacks? If we could find them, we could probably disable them long enough to get a sample."

"If we can do that, why can't we just, you know," Xander picked up a stake and thrust it forwards violently enough that Anya took a step backwards.

"You'd run out of stakes," Jack told him, obviously amused by the demonstration. "And we can't be sure that we'd got them all. This would guarantee it."

"Sounds like a plan." Buffy looked at him. "Let's hunt."

* * *

A/N: The haemovores are from the Doctor Who story The Curse of Fenric. 


	2. A Hunting We Will Go

**Undead II: A-Hunting We Will Go**

Jack left his coat behind, retrieving a slim metal box from it before following Buffy out of the door. Xander had also joined them, offering to act as chauffeur. Buffy wondered if it was just because he didn't trust Jack alone with her, although it wasn't that she didn't appreciate the sentiment and the company. One to one, Jack had been a little overpowering and she was just unsteady enough to be glad of the chaperone.

"Where's the most likely place to find a gathering of haemovores?" she asked, tilting her head to one side at the words. "Is 'gathering' right?"

"What about 'huddle?'" Xander suggested. "Or 'menace?'"

"Whatever you call it," Jack said, cutting the conversation short, "the beach is the most likely place, or near there. They can live at sea for as long as they need to, so it's probable that the main pack is hiding off the coast somewhere. The beach has got to be the best place to start."

"A pack of haemovores." Xander shook his head as he started the car. "Doesn't have the right ring to it somehow."

"Xander? Shut up and drive? Please?" Buffy turned to Jack. "Tell me there's more to this plan than 'find a haemovore and get its blood.'"

He held up the metal case that he'd taken from his coat. "Well, this is what we're going to use to get the blood. Apart from that, I'm not sure there's much more we can plan."

"Perfect." Buffy opened the box, looking at the neat syringes inside.

"Do either of you know how to use them?" Jack asked.

Glancing over, Xander shrugged. "It's your basic point and press, isn't it?"

"Point and pull, but you've got the right idea." Jack returned the box to his pocket, leaning back in his seat and apparently enjoying the drive. He looked relaxed and confident, as though, with nothing to do right at that moment, he'd just switched off. For a moment, Buffy envied him.

It took them about half an hour to drive out of the city limits to the beach. There was a stronger wind down here, blowing in off the sea, and Buffy shivered a little as they got out of the car. The three of them walked slowly along the beach road, peering into bushes and listening for any unusual sounds.

"This could take a while," Jack observed. "There may be a quicker way." Before Buffy could ask, he produced a penknife from his pocket and flicked it open. He met her questioning look with a quirk of his lips. "I've done this before."

"Done what?" Xander asked, puzzled.

Ignoring him, Buffy kept her eyes on Jack. "You do remember this is the Hellmouth, right? Vampires, demons, not just haemovores. And there'll be other nights."

"They'll just keep hiding. I told you, they're psychic. They know you hurt them and they'll stay away from you. This should bring them out."

Before she could protest further, Jack had drawn the knife down across his palm, a thin red line springing up behind it. Xander swore and Buffy noticed that Jack didn't even wince. Clenching his fist then opening it, he allowed the cut to bleed for a moment, then lifted his head to look around.

"I think we should have their attention now."

The three of them were still, listening again to the rustle of leaves and the waves lapping at the sand.

"Well, that was an anticlimax," Xander said after a minute had passed. "Nothing leaping out of any bushes that I can see."

"Give them time." Jack said, opening his hand again. "They'll come. They're just not very fast runners."

"No, but they are."

Buffy looked in the direction of Xander's pointing finger, seeing a small group of vampires coming across the scrubby grass. Real vampires, the kind she was used to.

"I'll take care of them," she said, pulling the stake from the back pocket of her jeans. "You watch for haemovores."

"Be careful," Xander called after her, and she acknowledged the concern with a nod, focussing her attention on the vamps coming towards her. Four men, all with their game faces on, snarling as she went to meet them. One was still wearing long shorts and not much else, probably a night surfer who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. As soon as it came, she pushed the thought aside. The dude was dead. Time to kill the demon.

"If one of you even thinks the word 'radical', you get to go first," she said, coming to a stop a couple of metres away from the group. They seemed momentarily confused, probably because she wasn't running away screaming, and possibly because they'd spotted the stake. Either way, they got over it quickly and one of them started to lunge at her.

He wasn't much taller than she was, but he was fast. Holding the stake horizontally, she slammed it up into his chin, punching him in the chest at the same time. She was aware of the others closing in, trying to use their numbers against her. They lost the advantage as the vamp she'd hit barrelled backwards with the momentum of her blow, taking two of them down with him. That left one, the guy wearing only his surfing shorts.

"I've got to admit," she said, dodging his first swipe at her, "all that swimming does wonders for the six-pack."

She was suddenly given a close-up view as he managed to catch her arm and pull her towards him. She stumbled against him, bringing up her other hand, the one holding the stake, and ramming it into the centre of his chest. He exploded in a shower of dust.

"Pretty, but not too bright." She had just about regained her balance when something slammed into her from behind, bearing her to the ground and gripping her tightly. Trying to breathe, she rammed first one elbow then the other into the cold body on top of hers, gaining a few inches of space and just about enough leverage to roll them both over, so that her vision filled with sky instead of grass.

Struggling in the still-firm grip and hanging onto the stake for dear life, she only noticed the next vamp when he was nearly on top of her. Instinctively, she brought her foot up to kick him off, almost as surprised as he was when she made contact with something soft. Eyes crossing, the vampire slowly sank to the ground, whimpering a little.

The vamp underneath her wasn't giving up yet and she could feel his teeth on the back of her neck. She threw her head backwards, putting all the force she could into it and feeling something give with a nasty squishing sound. The vamp howled in pain, letting go of her wrists and clawing at his face. Buffy rolled off him, turning to stake him before looking to see what had happened to the others.

"There they were, gone," she muttered, getting to her feet and scanning the clearing for the retreating vampires. One was still half-doubled over, clinging to the other who was limping away as fast as he could. It wasn't fast enough. Shifting her grip on the stake, Buffy drew her arm back and threw it. At this distance, she was just about able to hear the satisfying thud of it hitting home before the vamp crumbled away. It left her unarmed, but it didn't look like the fourth vamp, who'd fallen over when his friend exploded, was going to be much of a danger any time soon.

"Buffy!"

Reluctantly tearing her eyes away from the last vampire – the one that was going to get away – Buffy turned and started to run back to the others. The volume and tone of Xander's voice had told her she needed to hurry, but as she took in the scene, she found another burst of speed from somewhere.

Jack and Xander were surrounded, almost submerged in a sea of haemovores, stretching out long fingers towards them, hissing and snarling. The creatures didn't move quickly and Buffy didn't remember them as being particularly strong. When there were this many of them, they didn't need to be.

Judging the distance, she threw herself at the back of the nearest haemovore, knocking it to the ground and rolling to her feet. This close, she could see the pustuled skin and strange blue growths that covered much of their faces. The hands that reached towards her had long, thin nails, sharp as knives, and, although she couldn't see any fangs, Buffy was sure that they were there. The creatures were emitting a strange, hissing noise, although whether it was communication or just a general reaction to seeing food, she couldn't tell.

She kicked at the nearest one, clearing enough space for her to get to Jack and Xander. Seeing her coming, Jack pulled Xander out of the way of a clawed hand and grinned at her. His hair was falling in his eyes and there was a long scratch down one cheek, the twin of the one on his hand, and he looked as though he was having the time of his life.

"Glad you could join us," he said. "Hang on." Almost lifting her off her feet, he pulled her in front of him, gripping her arms tightly. He was stronger than he looked, and for a sudden, terrible minute, Buffy thought that it was all going to go wrong. As she tried to get her balance back, ready to defend herself, strange ringing sound filled the air.

"Well that's weird." Xander's voice carried over the top of the sound, and Buffy could hear Jack muttering something, the same words, over and over.

The sound was having a dramatic effect on the haemovores. They shrank back, hands clutching at their heads and screaming in pain. The ones she'd knocked over were writhing on the ground, apparently in agony. At first, Buffy thought it must be some kind of spell, then she managed to make out what Jack was whispering.

"Never doubted him, never will. Never doubted him, never will. Never doubted him."

If it was a spell, it was the strangest incantation she'd ever heard. As the haemovores retreated, he slowly released his grip on her arms, letting her step away from him. Not wanting to disturb his concentration, Buffy turned to Xander.

"Let's get this done. Where's the box?"

"Here." Xander pulled it out of his pocket. "Jack gave it to me."

"Isn't that a comforting thought? Come on."

She held down one of the struggling creatures while Xander opened the syringe case, giving it, and her, a nervous look.

"Point and pull, right?"

"Into it, not me," Buffy warned him, adjusting her grip on the thing's arm. This close, she could see the human being under the mutation, blue eyes staring up out of a deformed face. With vampires, you could remind yourself that you were talking to the demon, not the person. With these creatures, there was only blankness.

"Done." Xander put the syringe carefully back in the case and nodded to Buffy. "Are we getting the hell out of here now?"

"You bet. Jack?" Buffy looked up. Jack was still standing facing the haemovores, his lips moving in that strange mantra. Sharing a glance with Xander, Buffy straightened up and went over to stand next to the motionless man. "Jack, we need to go."

He nodded fractionally, slowly backing away from the crowd of monsters. After a few steps, he stopped, closing his eyes and bringing his clenched fists up towards his chest. Then the ringing grew in volume, until even Buffy felt the urge to put her hands over her ears. Some of the haemovores began to scream, while others broke off from the back of the pack, retreating into the bushes and trees and the night.

Very slowly, Jack unclenched his fists and opened his eyes, taking a deep breath. The ringing died away, and he and Buffy stood for a moment, watching to see what the haemovores would do. When the creatures made no move to follow them, Jack nodded, satisfied and turned to her.

"Shall we go?"

* * *

Jack absolutely refused to let Buffy do anything to his cheek or hand on the way back to the Magic Box, reassuring her that he was fine and it barely hurt. Actually what it mostly did was itch like crazy, but he could hold on until they had something other than his already bloodstained handkerchief to wipe it with. As attractive as the thought of Buffy rending her garments for him was, he didn't think Xander's blood pressure could take it.

Willow didn't even look up as they came into the shop.

"Did you get it?" she asked, setting a candle at the centre of the complicated arrangement on the table.

"One vial of haemovore blood, delivered to your door." Xander passed over the box with a flourish. "They don't offer that service at Dominos, you know."

Looking up to give him a sarcastic look, Willow caught sight of Jack over Xander's shoulder, and her face filled with concern.

"I'm fine," he said quickly. "Although if someone's got a flannel, I wouldn't say no." No-one looked reassured by his winning smile. While Buffy and Xander seemed to have come through the fight relatively unscathed, Jack's shirt had grass stains down one side where he'd fallen, pushing Xander out of the way of a swiping claw. He supposed it must also have bloodstains from his dripping cheek by now. Willow frowned, coming over and lifting his hand to look at it.

"You were supposed to get blood from them, not the other way round." She turned his hand to see his palm, looking up at him as he took a firm grip on her wrist before she could peel away the handkerchief.

"Are you going to magic it better?" he asked softly, enjoying the way her eyes widened and cheeks filled with colour. "Then maybe a bowl of water would be a better bet."

"Right." She held his gaze for a moment longer, then let go of his hand. "Water."

"You get on with the spell," Tara said, coming up and taking Jack's hand. He decided that he liked the tag-team approach to first-aid. "I'll see to this."

She led him over to a bench by the wall, pushing him down onto it and disappearing into the back room While Xander and Willow carefully injected half of the blood sample into a stone bowl. There were candles and charms all over the table, which was covered in an embroidered cloth. In a strange way, it reminded Jack of Tosh at her workstation in the Hub, surrounded by her keyboards and screens and various pieces of alien tech. Everyone had their own magic.

Tara came back with a bowl of water and cloth, sitting down next to Jack on the bench. He only half noticed her starting to dab at his face as he watched Willow light the candles. She pointed at each one in turn, smiling in satisfaction as the small flames burst into life.

"That must come in handy."

Tara followed his gaze and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smile. Not the shy, friendly smile she'd given him. This one was warm and wide, filling her face and eyes with light.

"Well, sometimes she just can't find the matches." She dabbed again at his cheek, making him wince. "Sorry." Very gently, she ran the fingers of her free hand down his face, whispering something under her breath. At first, her fingers just felt cold, a welcome relief from the sting of the cut. Then he realised that, over the places where they had been, the pain had receded to a slight tingling.

"Useful," he said appreciatively, his face still turned towards Willow. Tara ducked her head, dropping the cloth back into the water and rinsing out the blood. With a glance at her, he went on, "Lucky woman."

"I know."

"I meant Willow."

Either the girls out here blushed easily or Jack was on really good form today. All he had to do was get Anya alone and he'd have a clean sweep.

Tara finished wiping the blood from his neck and moved on to his hand as Buffy came over to join them.

"Will he live?"

"I think so." Tara lifted his hand and submerged it in the bowl of water, washing off the dried blood and checking the cut was clean.

"You know," Jack said, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes, "I could get used to this place. What more could a guy want?"

"Don't get too used to it."

He felt Buffy drop onto the bench next to him and he half-opened his eyes to look at her. She looked tired.

"You ok?" he asked, wincing as Tara teased something out of his palm.

"Just been a long day. You know?"

"Yeah. I know."

They sat in comfortable silence, watching Willow drop things into the bowl, muttering over them as she did so and listening to the gentle sounds of the water as Tara lifted his hand out and began to dry and bandage it. After a moment, Willow looked up.

"Tara?"

"Coming." With a smile at Jack, Tara tied off the bandage and went over to the table, taking Willow's hand.

"What are they going to do?" Jack asked, sitting up a little.

"I have no idea," Buffy admitted. "But Giles wouldn't let them do anything smelly or explosive. Not in here, anyway."

"Why is that not as comforting as it sounds?"

Buffy opened her mouth to reply, closing it again when the shop's lights dimmed slightly. Willow had placed the bowl on a tripod above a candle and was holding her hand over it, letting the steam rise between her fingers and slip round her palm. To Jack, it looked like the world's most mystical chemistry experiment. Now, with the lights down, he could see that the steam was turning to smoke, different coloured strands drifting out from the heated liquid. Willow had her eyes closed, and Jack could hear Tara speaking softly, using words from a language he didn't understand. After a moment, the smoke began to thicken, twisting and turning round Willow's hand. She clenched her fist, opening her eyes and leaning over the bowl.

"Reveal."

As she blew over the surface of the water, there was a sudden puff of smoke, which Jack expected to billow out across the shop. He was about to make a sarcastic comment to Buffy about explosions when he realised that the smoke seemed to be imploding, drawing together in a cloud that hung thickly over the bowl. In another moment, it had shifted and changed shape, twisting and curling into something that he recognised.

Very slowly, worried he'd disturb the air too much and break the spell, he got to his feet and moved towards the table. The smoke cloud had become a ghostly image, spheres and rods all interconnected and turning round each other, apparently pushed by the air currents in the room. It was a perfect molecular model, floating above the bowl.

"It's alright," Willow said, her voice edged with concentration, "you can come closer. Just don't breathe too heavily on it."

"Right." Jack was almost afraid to speak. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, flicking it open with his thumb. "I need to get a picture of this."

Willow smiled. "I think we can do better than that." She closed her eyes again, reaching out and holding her hand above the ghostly image. Then she clenched her fist, and Jack stood back as small objects came flying up from the table, disappearing into the smoke cloud, giving it form and substance. After another minute, Willow opened her eyes and took the now-solid model out of the air.

"I think we can have the lights on now," she said, passing the object to Jack, who took it with great care. "Will that do?" she asked.

"This is it, isn't it?"

"It's a model of the toxin that's in the haemovore bloodstream. Maybe it can tell us something."

"You know," Xander said as he turned the lights back on, "if she'd been able to do that in high school, it would have saved us all a lot of time."

"I think they get cranky if you use magic to pass your SATs," Willow said, waving a hand and extinguishing all the candles.

Jack was only half-listening, absorbed in examining the model. It was large, almost twenty centimetres across, and looked like it had been made out of the strangest chemistry set in the world. Stones, amulets and charms were held together and apart by twigs, thin pieces of metal and, he realised as he looked closer, a couple of pencils. Carefully setting it down on the table, he gave Willow an appreciative smile.

"My people are going to love this."

Ten minutes later, he'd set up his phone as a webcam and connected through to Tosh at the Hub. She actually yelped when she saw the model, and he practically had to shout at her to get her to stop asking questions.

"Just patch Suzie and Owen in on this, would you? He's going to want to see it."

Still talking, mostly to herself, Tosh connected Owen to Jack's phone.

"What the…" Jack heard rustling, which he assumed was Owen leaning closer to the screen. Then a burst of prolific swearing came down the line. Jack heard a snort from behind him as he waited for Owen's outburst to fade.

"Not in front of company, Owen, please? Try to pretend you have some manners. Suzie?"

There was a yelp from the other end of the line, and Jack could hear the smile in Suzie's voice as she spoke.

"Sorry about that, Jack. It's pretty impressive, though."

"You should see the person who made it." Jack winked at Willow, then turned back to the computer. "Tosh?"

"Hang on." After another moment, a computer image of the chemical appeared on the screen, rotating as Tosh checked it against the image Jack was sending her. "Ok, I'm done. The computer should be able to analyse it now."

Someone put a hand on Jack's shoulder as the others crowded round to see, and he looked up into Buffy's interested face. Xander was resting his hands on her shoulders, peering over her and almost pushing her down into Jack's lap. Jack watched as she became aware of this, scowled and pushed back at Xander, standing a little more upright at the same time. Apparently verbal flirtation was fine, but as far as she was going to go. For now, at least.

Willow was pointing to something on the screen and Jack tuned back into the conversation.

"It's not quite the same," she said, masking off half the molecule with one hand.

"Tosh, can you have the computer remove everything that we already know is the toxin?" Jack asked.

"Hang on." The screen flickered a little, then a new image appeared, considerably smaller than the last. The chemical formula appeared at the bottom, and Owen swore again.

"It's bloody sodium pentothal, Jack."

"What? Why would someone mix that in?"

"And for those of us without a major in chemistry?" Buffy asked.

"It's a psych drug," Owen said. "Sometimes it's called a truth serum, but mostly it's used to make people more compliant and suggestible. What's the point of using it on a haemovore?"

"Three guesses anyone?" Jack muttered. In a more normal tone of voice he added, "Thanks, Owen. Clear up and head home. I think we can take it from here. Tosh?"

"Already on it."

"Does anyone else have any idea what's going on?" Xander asked the group in general, getting some blank looks and shakes of heads for an answer. Giles took his glasses off, rubbing at his eyes with one hand.

"If I'm following along so far," he said thoughtfully, "someone's managed to re-engineer the haemovore toxin, adding something that makes them more compliant."

"Right," Jack said. "And that means someone with access to the drug and a lab to mix it up in, as well as access to the haemovores in the first place."

"So," Tosh's voice came through the speaker, "I'm tracing everyone in the Sunnydale area who might have the skills and opportunity to do this. I'll send the list through when it's done, Jack."

"Thanks. I'll check in with you later." Jack cut the connection, and turned to Willow. "You said something about destroying the toxin with magic?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Willow glanced at Tara, who nodded. "I think we can do that. The problem is we're going to have to be in reasonable proximity to the toxin. The spell should cover a few miles, but if there's one haemovore out of range…"

"..the whole thing will just start over again," Jack finished. "I get it. Well, hopefully we can get to the source. How long do you need to get ready?"

"Not long." Willow collected Tara with a look, and the two of them moved off to start collecting supplies from the shelves. Glancing round, Jack saw Buffy and Giles disappear into the back room, while Xander was hovering awkwardly by the display shelves. It took Jack a moment to realise that Anya hadn't dispersed with everyone else, and was sitting in the chair next to his, watching him with a curiously intent expression.

"Do I have something on my face?"

"A great big cut." She smiled, but her eyes flickered past Jack to Xander, just for a moment.

"Apart from that?" Jack kept most of his attention on the computer in front of him, closing down the picture of the toxin as he waited for Tosh to send the information through.

"No, nothing." Anya sat back in her chair, glancing from him to Xander and back again.

"He seems a nice guy," Jack offered, wondering if he was going to get his fourth blush of the evening.

"He's great," Anya said. It wasn't a defensive or hasty remark, and her voice had the ring of simple honesty about it. "We're entirely compatible; emotionally, intellectually, sexually."

From behind him, Jack heard the sound of breaking glass. Xander must have dropped the trinket he'd been holding. With some effort, Jack managed to match Anya's matter-of-fact tone.

"Really? You're a lucky woman."

"Yes." Anya sighed, looking round the shop. "This place is even starting to make money."

"You want to make some more?"

"How?"

Jack resisted the urge to pull his chair back as Anya almost pounced on him.

"The little black stone in the display case. The one you've got labelled as an obsidian amulet for thirty dollars? I'll give you an email address. Tell them that you've got a Merillian Jax Stone, and that I told you to get in touch. They'll give you a good price."

"How good?"

She really was relentless. If she put this amount of energy into all her activities, Xander was a lucky man.

"Six, maybe seven thousand dollars."

There was a moment of silence, although Jack suspected it was more because Anya's cry of delight had gone beyond the reach of human hearing. She threw her arms around him, kissing him soundly and with considerable enthusiasm. Then she hurried over to the display case, pushing a startled Xander out of the way and carefully lifting the black stone out. Then, almost as an afterthought, she grabbed the back of his head and kissed him as well. Struck with an uncharacteristic sense of modesty, Jack looked away, giving them a moment. Definitely a lucky man. And Jack was four for four in the red-faced stakes. Not a bad night's work.

It didn't take much scrolling through the information Tosh had sent him for Jack to find the address he was looking for.

"Holdings in Argentina, chemical works right down by the beach, reclusive owner. This is our guy," he told the re-assembled group.

"So what's next?" Buffy asked. "Is the spell ready, Will?"

"Just about." Willow held up a small bag which chinked a little. "The final casting will have to be done on site, though."

"The works has got to be the headquarters," Jack said, grabbing his phone and getting his feet. "We'll start there."

"Why is he doing this, though?" Xander asked. "I mean, doesn't Sunnydale have enough monsters for him?"

"Sure it does," Jack said, "but he's created his own controllable, unkillable, replaceable army. What was the question?"

"I'll get back to you."

Buffy grabbed her jacket and began herding people towards the door. "Let's go."


	3. Trust

**Undead III: Trust**

The plant was everything Buffy had expected. Big and sprawling, with a rabbit warren of rooms and corridors. They'd forced a door at the back, setting off who knew how many alarms. Jack had just shrugged.

"Might get us closer to the guy, if he's not here at the moment."

"Seriously, though," Xander said as they crept through the corridors, looking for a room for Willow to set up, "what's the guy going to get out of this?"

"Could be anything," Jack replied, peering into yet another store room. "Power lust, grudge against the town, grudge against a person, just to see if he could."

"Because it was there?" Giles suggested.

"Some people are like that. Here we are." The room Jack was looking into seemed to be ideal. A large, secluded store room with a table in the centre. He frowned as the door refused to open, putting his shoulder to it and giving an experimental shove.

"Let me." Pushing him out of the way, Buffy jiggled the handle a little. The lock wasn't that sturdy, and didn't hold up to a Slayer-strength push.

"Handy." Jack raised an eyebrow. "I know who to call next time I lose my keys."

"Just try it," Buffy muttered, standing by the door and watching as Willow and Tara set up what they needed. "What will the spell do?"

"Incinerate the toxin, and anything it's in." For someone who was proposing arson, Willow sounded surprisingly calm.

"Incinerate?" Jack raised his eyebrows even further. It looked like Buffy wasn't the only one being caught off-guard tonight.

Willow nodded. "Guaranteed to kill haemovores and destroy all remnants of the toxin."

"How long do you need?" Buffy asked, looking out into the corridor. It was hard to believe that they were going to remain undiscovered and she needed to know what they were up against.

"The spell will take about ten minutes to set up, maybe another ten to actually cast. It'll latch onto the toxin, but nothing will happen until we say the final words. We can be outside the factory for that bit, just in case, you know, there's some in here or anything like that."

Everyone gave the boxes on the shelves a nervous look.

"You had to say it, didn't you?" Xander asked, trying to read the sideways writing.

"We'll buy you all the time you need," Jack said, looking to Buffy for confirmation. "There's going to be guards or something. You don't leave stuff like this to simmer all by itself."

Buffy nodded, turning to Giles. "If you need us, yell."

"To bring the building down," he promised. "Be careful."

She snorted, then looked at Jack. "Ready?"

"Always."

They moved slowly through the corridors, stopping and listening every so often. There were no sounds of life except for their breathing and footsteps. Jack shook his head.

"This isn't right," he said. "Either he knew we were coming and cleared everything out, or he knows we're here and is waiting to trap us."

Buffy pulled a face. "You're a big help, you know that?"

"Just thinking out loud."

"Think quieter."

Turning a corner, they came to what seemed to be a dead end, until Buffy saw the door to one side of the corridor. The window was a little too high for her, and she had to go up on tiptoe to see through. Behind her, she heard Jack's soft laugh as he looked over her head.

"You need something to stand on?" he asked softly.

"Your unconscious body should do nicely," she muttered, distracted by what she could see through the small pane of glass.

Unlike the low store rooms and offices they'd passed, this was a huge space, with enormous vats down either side. From where they stood, Buffy could see four of them, each three metres high and at least two across, connected to a pipe system that ran across the whole ceiling. Still standing on tiptoe, she tried the door handle, leaning onto it when it didn't immediately open. It suddenly gave under her hand, and she half-fell into the room, only saved from an undignified sprawl by Jack, who hooked a hand into her belt and pulled her back.

"Easy does it."

"_You're_ calling me easy?"

Shaking herself free, and feeling her cheeks reddening as Jack chuckled softly, Buffy moved more carefully towards one of the huge vats, peering round it to get a better sense of the space. There were about a dozen of the huge cylinders, all giving off heat and a foul smell. The air in here was humid, and Buffy's jacket felt too heavy and constricting. In contrast to her cautious, slow steps, Jack sauntered past, his hands stuck in his pockets, as though he was here for the tour. Seeing her face, he grinned and shrugged.

"If something's going to find us, I'd rather it was sooner than later. Gets it over with."

"Did you take lessons in stealthiness anywhere, ever?"

"I think I was off sick that day." He looked around again. "And here's a nasty thought for you. We're in here, surrounded by huge steaming vats of what I'm going to assume is the toxin. The toxin that Willow's about to, what was the word? Incinerate?"

"That was the word." Buffy made a final inspection of the room, before heading back the way they'd come. "Let's get out of here." It took her a few steps to realise that Jack wasn't following.

"There's another door," he said, pointing to the other end of the room. "Want to see where it goes?"

"What is this? The magical mystery tour?" But Buffy fell into step beside him anyway. It wouldn't do any harm to explore a little more. "Actually," she said, glancing up at Jack, "I've been meaning to ask you. Who don't you doubt?"

"What?" He seemed genuinely puzzled by the question.

"When you did that thing to drive off the haemovores before. You were saying something about not ever doubting him? Who's 'him'?

"Oh, that." Jack's face went blank, which probably told Buffy more than he'd meant to. "Just someone I knew."

"Knew? Didn't sound so far in the past to me."

"It was a long time ago." He still didn't look at her, focussing his attention on the door they'd now reached. "A long way from here."

"What happened?"

Jack paused, his eyes finally meeting hers. "He didn't let me down."

As much as she wanted to ask more, Buffy forced herself not to. The intensity of the look in Jack's eyes had startled her. Maybe this was something she didn't need to know. She looked down at the door handle.

"Is that unlocked?"

"Huh? Right. Door." Taking a deep breath, Jack turned the handle, pushing gently, then with more confidence. "It's open."

Beyond was a small office, dank and musty-smelling, with maps and diagrams pinned on all available wall space. Some of them looked eerily familiar.

"This is Sunnydale," Buffy said, looking at a large street map.

"And I think this is the beach and coastline."

"Looks like someone's been doing some planning."

"First rule of the egomaniac." Jack tapped one of the pieces of paper. "Always have a timetable."

Going over to see, Buffy ran her eye down the list of dates and times. "An evil genius with a printed schedule? They don't make them like they used to." She followed Jack's finger, reading the last date on the list. "That's three days from now."

"You mean we don't get to save the town at the last minute? Disappointing."

"We should get back." Buffy was starting to get nervous. There was only one way out of this room, and she had no intention of losing it. "Willow should be done by now."

Jack nodded, pulling one of the sheets down, folding it up and tucking it into the breast pocket of his shirt. "And the smell of incinerated haemovore is so hard to get out of your clothes."

Hurrying back past the bubbling vats and into the corridors, they made it round four corners before Buffy pulled Jack to a stop, putting her hand over his mouth to stall the obvious question. He frowned, taking half a step away from her and tipping his head to listen. From somewhere, ahead or behind them, Buffy couldn't tell, there was a soft shuffling sound and a low moaning.

"Haemovores?" she whispered, and Jack nodded. "Perfect."

"Come on." He took her hand, leading the way back to the storeroom, pausing at each corner to peer round it. Trusting him to watch ahead, Buffy kept her eyes on the way they had come, looking for any sign of movement. After two agonisingly slow minutes, Jack came to a halt, holding his arm rigid to stop her coming any closer. She waited, listening to the shuffling and moaning coming from the next corridor.

"Can we get past?"

Jack shook his head. "I don't think so."

"What about the whole 'you gotta have faith' thing? Can't you just do that again?"

"I don't know how long I can keep it up for, and there are moments when you do not want a psychic shield to give. Especially since, if there are enough of them, they can batter at it until it breaks. That's not going to be pretty."

Glancing over her shoulder, Buffy saw movement down the corridor.

"Until you think of something better, how do you do it?" When he turned to look at her, she shrugged. "Maybe if we work together, it'll last longer."

"Fine." Pushing her back against the wall, he looked down at her. "Earlier, you asked me what happened. Who I trusted. Now I'm asking you. What do you believe in, Buffy? When you get rid of everything else, what do you trust?"

She looked up at him, unable to tear herself away from his gaze. This wasn't what she'd expected. A bit of hand holding, maybe some concentration, sure. This intensity of connection, of reaching down into herself to the core of her being, was electrifying. What did she believe? Her mind was whirling, spinning with too many thoughts, and she wondered if he was doing this to her, affecting her somehow so that she felt so thrown off balance. Words, snippets of conversations echoed around her head.

_Now that's everything, huh? No weapons... No friends...No hope. Take all that away... and what's left?_

_You are worth fighting for_

_She's an innocent in this. She needs you_

_See you in hell_

_Manus. The hand_

_The Big Bad Wolf_

_The Slayer_

Jack pulled away, blinking and obviously startled. "What the hell was that?"

"You're asking me?" Glancing back down the corridor, Buffy saw the haemovores coming closer. "Shouldn't we, you know, do something?"

"I thought that's what we were trying to do." He took her hand, putting it to his face. "Concentrate this time."

Closing her eyes was less distracting, and she tried to clear her mind, the way she did when she was training. It was harder, doing this with Jack standing so close that she could feel his body heat and she felt her control slipping again. Instead, she took the sensation of heat, remembering standing in the dream-desert, talking, fighting with the first slayer.

_Never doubted him, never will._

That was Jack, she knew, reciting the same words as before. It drove her deeper, searching for what she needed. Her own voice drifted across to her.

_I walk. I talk. I shop. I sneeze. I'm gonna be a fireman when the floods roll back. There's trees in the desert since you moved out, and I don't sleep on a bed of bones._

This was her.

She felt the power coming and heard the high ringing begin, coming from inside her head. With her eyes closed, she could see light, golden glows drifting across her awareness and, this time, the ringing was combined with an ethereal singing and the force of such power that it took her breath away. Then she heard the screaming.

Opening her eyes again, she saw the haemovores retreating, not just kept at bay but actually driven off by whatever it was that she and Jack had managed. His eyes were still closed, and she was surprised to see a single tear running down his cheek. He started as she reached up to brush it away, smiling sadly.

"I think it's working. There's a hell of a lot you haven't told me, isn't there?"

She shrugged. "Are you the pot or the kettle in this conversation?"

Buffy could feel the power now, rolling out and driving the monsters away. Vaguely, she was aware of Jack's hand in hers, that somehow he was directing what they were doing, although right now she couldn't have said what that was. From behind her, she heard footsteps hurrying towards them, and turned to see a frightened looking Xander running down the corridor.

"The others are getting out. You have to come now. Willow's ready to go bang." Seeing the looks that Buffy and Jack were giving him, he corrected himself quickly. "That would be, she's finished the spell."

"Go on," Jack said. "I'll hold them here then run like hell."

"It'll be easier if we both stay," Buffy told him firmly. "The only place they can go from here is back to the main plant room. We can lock them in there, can't we?"

"I guess so." Jack took a few cautious steps forwards. "We need to move fast though."

The haemovores had long disappeared from sight into the depths of the building, and Buffy could hear them screaming defiance from a long way off. They walked carefully back the way they had come, driving the creatures before them. Jack kept going all the way into the plant room, which was now full of haemovores, snarling and hissing and trying to stay out of the range of the psychic field.

"What now?" Xander asked, hovering behind them.

"Get back," Jack said. "I'll hold them for now." He let go of Buffy's hand, and she felt some of the power drain away, leaving her hollow inside. Yielding to Xander's insistent tugging, she let him pull her back into the corridor, watching as Jack stood facing the now enormous crowd of monsters.

The moment came so fast, that only her Slayer reflexes helped her to untangle what was happening. Something, a sound or movement or shadow, drew her attention upwards. Some of the creatures, immune to the heat, had crawled up the side of the vats and were pulling at the pipe network that ran across the ceiling. Just as Buffy's eyes found them, they succeeded in breaking one of the connections, and liquid began to stream from the open tube. She saw Jack fall to his knees as the flood of liquid broke over him, soaking him and leaving him gasping.

Instinct made her jump forwards, only to find that Xander was still holding her arm and had braced his other hand against the door, keeping it shut.

"We can't," he said, ignoring her struggles. "Look."

The haemovores had closed in around Jack, who was still kneeling on the floor. As they watched, he seemed to find the strength for a last effort, and some of the creatures closest to him retreated under a renewed attack. Apparently sensing that Buffy and Xander were still watching, he turned, frowning at them and waving an arm weakly. His skin was already starting to blister, although Buffy couldn't tell whether it was the first effects of the toxin or scalding from the hot liquid. She saw him mouthing something.

"Buffy." Xander's voice was soft, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, trying to turn her away from the window. "We should go. Will needs to destroy this stuff."

"He's covered in it." Buffy put a hand against the window, watching as Jack hit out at a haemovore that got too close. "She'll kill him."

"He's already dead. Buffy, please."

This time, she let him turn her around, pulling her through the narrow corridors and finally out into the cold night air. There were tears in her eyes and her hands were shaking by the time they reached the others. Willow had set up the candle and tripod again on the ground, and she looked up as Xander and Buffy approached.

"We're just about ready," she said, frowning as she looked up. "Where's Jack?"

Unable to answer, Buffy shook her head, turning blindly away from the others, trying to regain her composure.

"He didn't make it," Xander said softly. "We need to do this now."

As Willow began to speak again, Buffy sensed someone coming up behind her and turned to see Giles approaching, a concerned look on his face.

"What happened?" he asked gently.

Before she could answer, Willow finished her incantation, her words making the candle burst into life with a flame so strong that it shattered the bowl. In counterpoint, Buffy heard the windows of the factory shattering as an explosion ripped through it, flames dancing in the darkness. She dropped her head to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself tightly. Looking down, she could see the face of her watch. She'd known the man for three hours, maybe four. She wouldn't grieve for him the way she would one of her friends. But the connection had been so strong, so powerful that his absence made her ache.

Gentle hands grasped her shoulders, pulling her out of herself. Giles never needed to ask and he always knew what to do. Right now, he steered her back towards the cars, not waiting for the others, just getting in beside her and driving back to the Magic Box in silence.

They sat together at the table, neither of them finding the heart to move Jack's coat from where he'd thrown it. After a while, Giles stirred, reaching out a hand to touch a button.

"It's funny, how much of an impression some people can make on you in such a short time."

"He didn't even hesitate." Buffy said. "I think he knew something like this was going to happen. And he didn't hesitate. How can someone hold their life so lightly? To just be willing to die like that?"

"You did it," Giles said gently. "Buffy, you do it every day. Every time you go out on patrol, face a demon or a vampire, you put your life on the line to save other people. It's what you do. Maybe Jack was the same."

"He did something, I don't know." She struggled to put words round what she'd felt. "It was like, somehow, he joined our souls together. I heard the first Slayer again, talking in my head, and he took the power and put it with…something." She shook her head, still not really understanding it. "He was more than he seemed."

Giles nodded, reaching out and picking up the coat. He took it behind the counter, hanging it on a hook, like it belonged there.

"We'll just keep this, for the time being," he said. They waited in silence again, sitting together until the others returned.

* * *

In some ways, it all ended that night. Everything else was just clean-up. The owner of the factory put in a claim with his insurance company for arson and moved his business out of Sunnydale. Four days later, Willow's internet searches reported his mysterious disappearance and the collapse of his international business. Three days after that, the factory was pulled down and the site surrounded by a high fence.

Three days after _that_, they were all in the Magic Box as usual, trying to work out if the demon Buffy had encountered earlier on in the evening was a relatively harmless Trinma demon, or a rather more dangerous Trelma one. She was only half listening to the conversation, waiting to hear whether she was going to have to go out and find the thing again, which she wasn't entirely keen to do. She'd only just been able to fend off Dawn that night, and she didn't like leaving her mom alone for too long at the moment. She was also distracted by Jack's coat, which was still hanging behind the counter. Anya kept saying it was in her way, but no-one had made any move to get rid of it.

"How big were the horns?"

It took Buffy a moment to realise that the question was directed at her.

"How big were they?" Giles repeated, giving her an impatient look. "This is important."

"I don't know. Horn sized." She held up her hands, trying to remember. About seven inches apart looked about right, and Giles shook his head.

"It can't be a Trinma, not at that size."

"Size isn't everything, you know."

If she hadn't been sitting down, Buffy knew her knees would have given way. As it was, she felt the need to grip the table firmly. It felt real, which meant that she wasn't dreaming, which meant that it really was Jack standing on the step, grinning down at them all.

Anya made a strangled noise and Xander yelped, although Buffy suspected that was from Anya's grip more than anything else. Slightly more practical, Tara got to her feet and made her way slowly across to him. She stopped about an arm's length away, then reached out and prodded him with one finger, turning back to the others with a delighted smile.

"He's real."

"Three dimensional, larger than life and bigger." Jack took her hand, linking his fingers through hers. "Right here, right now."

"Remarkable." Giles had taken off his glasses and was staring, open-mouthed. "We all thought-"

"-you were dead," Buffy finished for him, and Jack finally looked round at her.

"Not nearly as dead as you thought."

"We kept your coat!" Anya blurted out, running round the counter to get it. Jack took it with a grateful smile, planting a kiss on her forehead. For him, it was probably chaste, but Buffy noticed Xander reddening. Still, it was hard to be jealous of someone who'd apparently just come back from the dead.

"That's what I'm here for." Jack's look took them all in again, his smile growing even wider.

"Really?" Buffy asked softly, aware of everyone turning to her. If he was disconcerted, Jack didn't show it.

"I guess I wanted to check on you, see you didn't get all blown up or anything careless like that. And to let you know that we took care of Mr 'I want to rule the world with haemovores.'"

Willow raised her eyebrows. "That was you?"

"It's what we do best." He grinned smugly.

"Are you in town long?" Giles asked and Jack shook his head.

"Just a few more days. I'm staying at the Sunnydale Inn, if you want to call me for anything. Anything at all." He pulled on his coat. "It was fun. See you around."

"You're just leaving again?" Willow said. "Just like that?"

"Afraid so." Jack shrugged. "Some of us have actual jobs, you know, and I need to get back to mine. I'm kind of busy tonight, but you know where I live, for now anyway. Otherwise, it was a pleasure knowing you."

With a final nod, and while they were all still gaping, he began to head for the door. Buffy was on her feet and following him before she was aware of it herself.

"Jack!"

He paused, looking back, then opening the door for her. Grateful that he didn't want an audience any more than she did, she went out onto the sidewalk.

It was much warmer now than ten nights ago, and she took a deep breath before turning to look at him properly. Under the street lamps, he looked just as she remembered him, even down to the curl of hair falling onto his forehead.

"You were just going to walk away again?" she asked and he nodded.

"I'm not the staying type. Besides, you guys have got your battles to fight, I have mine. And mine aren't here."

"Where are you going?"

"Home. For now. Until the next time I get called away."

"Will you be back?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them, especially as Jack's lips curved into an amused smile.

"So keen to see me?" Taking a deep breath, he looked round the street, as though inspecting it for the last time. "It's hard to be sure. Work doesn't bring me this way too often, you guys have got the market sewn up there, but if I'm in the neighbourhood..."

"You know where we live." She took a tentative step towards him, grateful when he reached out and pulled her into a hug, so that she didn't have to make the last move. He rested his chin on her head, letting her lean into his solid presence. It felt good to rest for a moment. As though reading her mind, he slid his hands down her arms, holding her away from him to look at her face.

"You'll do the right thing," he said softly. "I saw that much. You'll do what you have to do, and you won't be afraid."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, suddenly suspicious again. "Who are you, Jack?"

He shook his head, cupping her cheek for a moment before letting her go. "Let's just say I have access to things that other people don't know about. And I saw a lot about you. Who you are and what you can do."

"Did you see the future?" she asked. "You said 'you'll do what you have to do.' What do I have to do?"

"I don't know," he admitted, pushing his hands into his pockets. "It's not something I can turn on and off. But the things that happened to me, that changed me? Sometimes they let me know things without knowing how I know them. You know?"

"No." Getting angry now, Buffy took a step towards him. "What do you know? You've got to be more than just a really, really lucky guy. What else can you do? No-one could have survived being burned alive."

"I didn't." Jack's voice was so quiet that she nearly missed the words. "It doesn't work like that. I can't explain, I'm sorry."

"Then what use is it?" She gave him a hard shove, sending him stumbling backwards. "You turn up with your cryptic messages and knowing looks, and you don't really know anything, do you? What use is all that power, if you can't use it?"

"You tell me!" Getting his balance back, Jack took his hands out of his pockets, holding them loosely by his sides as though ready to fight her. "You've got so much power, you tell me. At least you can control it. I don't get a choice!"

"Would you rather have died?"

The words seemed to echo in the silence that followed. For a very long moment, all Buffy could hear was the blood rushing in her ears and Jack's harsh breathing. Then he looked away from her, speaking in a serious tone that she hadn't heard him use before.

"I'd rather be alive. But-" He broke off, shaking his head.

Suspicion rising in her mind, Buffy looked at him more closely. "How many times has this happened to you?"

"I don't keep count," he said simply.

"What's it like?" she asked, not sure if she was supposed to ask. "Being dead. What's it like?"

Jack smiled sadly. "I don't know. There's life, then there's life again, normally with pain in the middle. I don't know what it's like."

"I thought it would be…" Buffy found that she couldn't finish the sentence, not looking into Jack's eyes. The depth of emotion she saw there dried the words in her throat. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and he smiled.

"Me too." Reaching out, he drew her to him again. "Take care of yourself. And them."

"I always do." She held him close for a moment, then stepped away. "Try not to die too much."

"I promise." As he had with Anya, he kissed her forehead lightly, squeezing her arm before turning and walking away down the street. She stood and watched him go, head held high and coat flapping in the light breeze, until he was swallowed by the darkness. Then she wiped the last of the tears from her face, took a deep breath and went back inside.


	4. Bonus Track: Books

A/N: The Bonus Tracks were written in response to reader demand.

So what did happen between Jack and Giles?

* * *

**Undead Bonus Track I: Books**

_Earlier_

Giles was pulling books off shelves when Buffy and Jack came out of the training room. He couldn't help but notice the slight redness in Buffy's face, and he watched as she deliberately took a book from the table and retreated to the stairs, effectively preventing anyone from sitting next to her.

In contrast, Jack somehow managed to insinuate himself onto the bench next to Willow, pointing out things on the screen and oh-so-accidentally ending up with his arm behind Tara. Only for balance, of course. Smiling to himself, Giles turned back to the books.

Some time later, making a mental note of some useful observations in this particular volume, he realised the conversation in the room had more or less died. Willow and Tara were sitting close together now, reading from the laptop, Anya and Xander were behind the main counter with a large pile of books, while Buffy was still half-curled up on the stairs. And Jack?

Giles found him at one of the bookshelves near the counter, running his fingers along the spines and stopping occasionally to peer at titles.

"Have you read any of them?" Pleased to note that he'd managed to make the unflappable Captain jump, Giles nodded to the books. "I don't suppose there are many of these in your office."

"Some, but not nearly enough. I don't get much time for reading nowadays." Regaining his composure, Jack gently pulled a book out. From the careful movement and the way he cradled the tome, Giles could tell that he knew what he was doing, although where someone like Jack got experience with antique books was yet another question to add to the list.

Jack turned the book in his hands, caressing the cover and lifting it to his face. He sniffed. "Computers just don't smell the same," he said appreciatively, "and nothing feels like leather under your skin." His palm moved over the binding, in a gesture that Giles guessed wasn't entirely for the benefit of the book. But Jack's words had resonated somewhere, distracting him sharply.

"I know just what you mean," he said, looking down. "I had a friend. She-" He stopped, clearing his throat. "I told her that computers couldn't replace the book, not really. They just don't smell the same." He watched Jack's hand moving over the red leather, apparently transfixed. When the hand stopped moving, he looked up into Jack's gently sympathetic face.

"I'm sorry. Were you-"

"We were close." Giles said simply, cutting off the rest of the sentence. "She was killed, three years ago."

"I'm sorry," Jack repeated, reaching out and giving Giles' arm a gentle squeeze. "It never goes away, does it?"

"No." Meeting Jack's warm, concerned eyes, he smiled sadly. "You just learn to live with it."

Jack let go of his arm, gesturing at the shelves. "Mostly, I'd say you live with books. You've got to have hundreds here."

"And more at home." Dragging his mind back to the subject, Giles smiled. "We generally find they have what we need."

"Really?" The look this time wasn't gentle, and it wasn't sympathetic. It was sharp and shrewd, and maybe just a little bit playful. "A cup of Ovaltine and a good book. That really does it for you?"

"I prefer Bovril," Giles said, earning him a broad, genuine smile.

"You English and your Bovril." Jack shook his head. "Some things you just can't get used to."

Taking the opening, Giles asked, "Get used to? Do you live in England?"

"Nope. But I love the accent." Grinning, Jack opened the book he was holding, running his finger down the page. "There's something about a really good, polished English accent; it's so authoritative, so certain, so-"

"Cultured?" Giles suggested and Jack frowned, tilting his head from side to side, apparently weighing the word.

"I was going to say sexy, but I guess yours works too."

There was no mistaking the playfulness this time. They were speaking in low voices, probably out of hearing-range of the others, but Giles was aware of the occasional glance that Anya was throwing in their direction. Buffy looked to be lost in thought or just struggling with her book, and Willow and Tara were occupied with the computer screen. No real audience, then.

And he wasn't about to let Jack think that he was the only one who could play this game. Raising his eyebrows, he said, "I suppose that would be in the ear of the beholder. Or listener, I should say."

"Beholder will do just fine." To punctuate the remark, Jack's eyes flicked up and down, coming back to meet Giles' again. He shut the book. "I don't like to leave anything out."

"You believe in being thorough."

"Very." Jack moved forwards, until they were only a book's width apart. "It's what I do best?"

"Really? You do surprise me." They were more or less of a height, and Giles met Jack's clear, knowing stare on an equal level, feeling the book's spine pressing into him. "I'm sure there are other things that you do well."

"Several." Jack leaned forwards, until his mouth was by Giles' ear, breath warm and gentle against his skin. "I could give you the list, but that would take all the fun out of your guesses. Thanks for playing, though." He stepped back again, standing a more normal distance away and giving Giles a slight nod and an obviously amused grin. Game over.

Returning the nod and the smile, Giles gestured to the book Jack was still holding. "I don't think you'll find what you need in there."

"Maybe not. I guess I'll have to try elsewhere." Slotting it back onto the shelf, Jack gave Giles a last, knowing look before sauntering off. He pulled a book from the top of the pile on the counter, leaning against it as he asked Xander something.

Suppressing his grin, Giles turned to the shelves, selecting a book for himself before going to see how Buffy was getting on.


	5. Bonus Track: Faces

A/N: And then people wanted to see Jack meet Spike. This is set BEFORE the main story.

* * *

**Undead Bonus Track II: Faces**

_Before..._

Spike leaned across to the man on the next bar stool. "Well, you're not what you pretend to be, are you? I can smell it."

The stranger, hanging out in this bar of demons as though he belonged, raised an eyebrow. "And you're telling me your other face is that pretty?" He took a swig of his drink – water, it looked like – and turned away, staring at the bar.

Smiling to himself, Spike took a long pull from his bottle of beer and looked the man up and down. Six feet, maybe more, broad shoulders and chest, dark hair, farm boy looks. Too fresh-faced for a place like this and too comfortable not to know exactly what he was doing. An anomaly. Very intriguing.

If the man was aware of the scrutiny, he didn't seem bothered by it.

"So what are you then?" Spike asked. "You're not a demon, not a spirit, not a fairy," he caught the glint of laughter in the man's face and kept going, "not a monster, not dead. And not a Slayer, unless that's the best disguise she's ever come up with."

That earned him a spark of interest, quickly stifled. "Sounds like you know her personally." The accent was unplaceable, almost deliberately so, but with just a hint of something that made Spike think of home. He smirked.

"We've been around the block a few times."

"Know where I can find her?"

Now Spike was more than just intrigued. He was downright interested. "What do you want the Slayer for?"

"Why do you care?"

Spike leaned in again. "Because if anyone's taking her out, it's me."

The stranger turned to him, lips curling. "Is that 'taking her out' with wine and chocolates, maybe a nice meal somewhere? Or did you have something more permanent in mind?"

"What's it to you?"

"Nothing at all." The man held up his hands, still smiling. "Just interested." He fished in a pocket for a moment, then with a final wink at the vampire, he dropped a note on the bar and headed for the door. "Be seeing you."

Spike picked up his beer, swilling the contents and watching the foam rise and fade. Then he slammed the bottle down.

"Bloody hell." Grabbing his coat, he headed for the door at a half-run.

The flapping coat drew his eye as he looked up and down the alley.

"Oi!" he yelled, slowing his run to a fast stroll. "Hey, wait up."

The man paused, then turned to look at Spike. "Did I forget something?" he asked, hands stuffed nonchalantly into his pockets and that damn annoying smile still in place.

"What do you want with the Slayer?"

"I thought we'd compare notes about hairstyles. I'm thinking of dying mine." The grin didn't fade as the man moved closer. "How does she feel about blonds?"

"Let me know when you find out." Spike looked up into eyes that held the same humour as the smile. Amused, for sure, and with an edge that made him decidedly uncomfortable. Behind the clean-cut looks, Spike knew that he was looking into the face of a predator. For someone used to being at the top of the food-chain, it was unsettling.

The man's voice was low and commanding. "Can you suggest where I might find her?"

Spike shrugged, stepping back a little. "She'll be out there somewhere. Looking for things to slay, that kind of thing. So what's it about? You heard she had a vacancy for a tall, dark, mysterious stranger in a long coat?"

"And why exactly would I talk to a vampire about a Slayer?" came the reply, without a suggestion that the reference had been understood. "Even one as interested as you."

"It's not interest," Spike said, as casually as he could manage. "Just, you know, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. All that stuff."

"What makes you think I'm her enemy?" The man's eyes flickered up and down, before coming to rest on Spike's. "And what makes you think I'm your friend. I think you might want to pull yourself together. Your...obsession...is showing."

Despite himself, Spike glanced down, his hand going automatically to his zipper. He heard the stranger's derisive laughter as he turned to walk away. Swearing, Spike forced himself to concentrate, to feed the right thoughts to the chip in his head. He wasn't going to hurt the guy. Just, you know, frighten him a little.

Moving quickly, he caught up with the man, reaching out a hand out to spin him round. With reflexes faster than Spike had anticipated, the stranger grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand aside and bringing his other arm round. Spike blocked the intended blow, forcing himself to hold back as he shoved the man off.

"You're not even trying," the man said, his breathing only a little harder than before. "Is that all you got? All mouth and no-"

The return of that bloody smile was enough to make Spike lose it, cutting the sentence short as he grabbed the lapels of the man's greatcoat, spinning them both round and shoving him into the wall of the alley. The expected stab of agony from the chip didn't come, and he risked following up on the movement, pinning his victim to the brickwork. As he pushed against the taller man, he felt hands come up and grip his own arms so that they were locked in each other's grasps.

"What are you?" Spike muttered, feeling the man's breath on his face as he shifted, apparently getting more comfortable.

"You tell me."

At this proximity, Spike could almost hear the stranger's heartbeat, just as he could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. Their faces were inches apart, and Spike felt the man's heat spreading through his own, cold body. The calm eyes that looked into his gave nothing away.

"You're not human," Spike said. "Not entirely." He leaned closer, smelling the otherness that he'd noticed before. "Lucky me." He pressed closer, almost nose to nose with the man as the blood-lust rose in his mind, overtaking all other thoughts. Not human.

Dimly, he noticed that his victim didn't even flinch when he vamped out, running his tongue over sharp teeth. Spike was stronger like this, every sense heightened to a pitch and it was now that he smelt the blood. Looking back and down, he saw that the hand gripping his arm was grazed, knuckles glistening in the dim light of the alleyway. The man must have caught his hand as Spike slammed him against the wall. Very slowly, still pushing hard against the shoulders under his hands, Spike leaned backwards, bringing his mouth closer to the tempting redness. It still smelt different, not quite right somehow, but there was enough humanity there to drive all thoughts from Spike's head except one. Feeding.

He ran his tongue up a finger, feeling the body against his flinch reflexively as he kept going, following the scent that was driving him insane. As his mouth closed down on its target, searing pain burst through the side of his head.

The moment passed in a blur, and it wasn't until he found himself slammed against then sliding down the wall that Spike realised the pain hadn't come from the chip. It had come first from contact with the open cut, then with the closed fist as the stranger punched him hard in the jaw. The force of the blow was enough to send Spike reeling, letting the other man turn the tables, grabbing the leather coat and using Spike's own momentum to throw him against the wall. Instead of following up, the man stepped back, watching as Spike fell to the ground, reeling with pain and surprise. His tongue felt as though it was on fire.

"Always thinking with your teeth," the man said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his knuckles. "I guess some people just can't be taught."

"What the hell?" His human face back in place now, Spike pawed at his mouth. "What did you do to me?"

The stranger raised his eyebrows. "You brought that on yourself. Let me give you some advice." He moved swiftly, grabbing a handful of Spike's coat and yanking him up so that they were nose to nose again. "In the future, trying using what's left of your brain and just say no." He let go, dropping Spike back against the wall. "And stay out of my way while I'm in town. Unless you want me to find a permanent solution to your," he paused again, the knowing smile back in place, "obsession." With a last flicker of his eyes up and down Spike's body, he stood upright again, buttoning his coat and turning to leave.

Spike watched, glaring at the man's back as he strode down the alley and away, coat flapping behind him. Then, using the wall for support, he pulled himself upright again. His mouth felt like he'd eaten raw chillies and his head was still spinning. What he needed was another beer, to take the taste away. He'd left half a bottle sitting on the bar, hadn't he? Settling his coat properly on his shoulders, he headed back inside, half-hoping that someone had had the nerve to pinch it. That was what he needed right now - something to punch. That would more than make up for the rest of the evening. Right. That was a plan. A good plan.

With a last glance down the alley, just to check, Spike turned on his heel and headed back inside.


End file.
